


The Road to Kingdom Come

by carolinecrane



Series: traveling shoes [5]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-23
Updated: 2011-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-17 05:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end it’s the bruises that convince him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road to Kingdom Come

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be the last part of the series, but circumstances being what they are, it didn't work out that way. So there will be one more part after this. (Eventually. I've got two big bangs to write first.)

When Kurt first agreed to give Puck a chance, he expected...well, he’s not sure what he expected, exactly, but it wasn’t _this_. It wasn’t holding hands in the halls and making out in full view of the rest of the school, it wasn’t Puck sitting at the dinner table on Friday night talking to Kurt’s dad about football, and it definitely wasn’t Puck holding out on him every time Kurt tried to get past first base.

And that’s the thing, because he spent enough time around Quinn back when the baby hormones were still making her crazy enough to be seen with him and Mercedes to know that in Puck’s world, putting out is an essential part of any relationship. So he’s prepared for Puck’s... _appetite_ , or at least as prepared as he can be with only Google and his own vivid imagination to guide him. He spent the first weekend of their relationship blushing his way through enough porn to understand what he’s getting himself into, though, and by the time he gets Puck alone he’s almost sure he’s ready. Mostly.

But Puck...well, he turns out to be kind of a tease. Not that Kurt’s complaining -- much -- because Puck’s been surprisingly sweet. Puck’s been the perfect boyfriend Kurt always dreamed of and expected to have to go to someplace like New York or Chicago to find, as a matter of fact, and that’s what makes Kurt wonder every so often if this all isn’t some elaborate prank after all.

It’s not that he doesn’t _want_ to trust Puck. Given the choice between a real life man of his dreams and the satisfaction of being right in distrusting nearly everyone he knows, Kurt will take the dream guy, thanks. It’s just that it would be so easy for McKinley’s resident jock squad to fake his dream guy, even given the limitations of their combined brain power. All they’d have to do is stuff a hot guy into a letter jacket and tell him to act like Finn, only a little rougher around the edges, maybe, and they’d have...well, Puck.

Still, there’s the fact that he’s fairly sure Puck wouldn’t go so far as sucking him off, even through his skinny jeans, just for a joke. Kissing, sure, that’s probably not even a big deal for him, but unless there was a substantial amount of money at stake, Puck wouldn’t actually _blow_ him. And that’s another thing Kurt’s fairly certain about: even if they all pooled their resources, the jock squad at McKinley couldn’t come up with _that_ much money.

Even so, there’s the chance, however slim, that Puck’s managed to convince himself it’s not gay if he doesn’t actually take Kurt’s dick out of his pants before he sucks it. It’s the same twisted non-logic that’s kept Brittany and Santana going all this time, after all, and Kurt wouldn’t be surprised to hear Puck actually believes it.

He blushes every time he thinks about it, pictures Puck dragging him into his own closet -- and the irony certainly isn’t lost on him -- and dropping to his knees and pressing his hot, perfect mouth against Kurt’s dick. He knows the only reason he didn’t come from the first press of Puck’s mouth against him was because he was still wearing his jeans; the rough scratch of denim through his underwear was just enough to distract him and keep him from completely embarrassing himself.

He still can’t believe Puck made good on his promise, let alone that Kurt was brave enough to send him a text about it, however coy it might have been. The fact that three of their friends were on the other side of the door and likely knew exactly what was happening...Gaga help him, that just made it even hotter.

Maybe Puck could lie to himself about the levels of gay to which he’s willing to aspire, but Kurt was there for that first blow job, and it certainly felt real to him. It felt _amazing_ , and the fact that Puck couldn’t even wait long enough to get his pants open made it even better somehow. It’s almost enough to make him stop doubting that Puck’s going to change his mind. Almost, but there’s still a lingering voice in the back of his head -- one that sounds a lot like Finn, oddly enough -- telling him not to let his guard down.

In the end it’s the bruises that convince him.

Because Puck might make out with him, and he might even go so far as to indulge his bi-curiosity long enough to get Kurt off in his closet where there are no witnesses, but there’s no way anybody on the team would think to cover Puck in bruises just to gain Kurt’s sympathy. They’re just not that sophisticated, and none of them feels badly enough about what they’ve done to Kurt in the past to consider that he’s probably sported bigger, uglier bruises himself over the years.

So it’s seeing the bruises on Puck’s stomach and chest that finally make Kurt believe that he really _is_ dating Kurt just because he wants to. He’s been taking beatings for Kurt -- he’s being _bullied_ for Kurt -- and it’s more convincing than all the slushies Puck’s taken put together. Because slushies are the kind of thing everyone sees, and they’re embarrassing, sure, but they could all be part of the show. The bruises...they’re something no one sees.

Well.

No one except Kurt, anyway.

It’s the reason Kurt lets Puck mark him, high up on his neck where anyone can see. Where his _father_ can see, and it’s just lucky for Puck that Kurt has a scarf collection that’s unrivaled by anyone in Lima. Still, he has to admit that there’s a part of him that...doesn’t hate it. It's a small part, but it’s there all the same, making his heart pound a little harder at the thought of being marked by Puck. Of _belonging_ , for the first time in his life, with someone and _to_ someone.

Not that he’d ever say that out loud, certainly not where Puck could hear him. He presses his fingers to the reminder of the previous afternoon anyway, feels the heat of the bruise on his skin and closes his eyes to remember the way Puck’s mouth felt on his neck.

When he opens his eyes he sighs into his bathroom mirror and counts himself lucky that he didn’t take off the scarf he’d been wearing the night before right in front of his father, then he heads for his closet to dig through his collection of designer scarves until he finds one that not only matches the outfit he’s planned for the day, but is wide enough to cover the hickey.

When he gets to school he does a quick check in his rear view mirror to make sure his scarf’s still in place, then he climbs out of the Navigator and manages to get inside the building without encountering any of the Neanderthals from the football team. He pictures the bruises on Puck’s stomach and winces, then he remembers the feeling of Puck’s skin under his fingers when he let Kurt touch his bruises, and he smiles and reaches up to touch the spot on his neck that’s hidden by the scarf.

It’s tacky, certainly -- and if his father spots it his opinion of Puck will likely change, and not for the better -- but that doesn’t stop the warm, curling feeling at the pit of his stomach. He’s still smiling to himself when he reaches his locker to find Puck waiting for him, lounging against the metal door like he has nowhere else in the world to be. It’s the first time they’ve seen each other since Kurt knelt on Puck’s bedroom floor and performed his first ever blow job, and he’s still not sure how he worked up the courage to go through with it.

Kurt blushes at the thought, but Puck’s too busy leaning in and pressing his mouth against Kurt’s neck to notice. He tugs Kurt’s scarf open without even asking, and Kurt would complain about his lack of respect for fashion, but that tiny part of him that likes belonging to someone is too busy applauding Puck’s industriousness to let his brain get a word in edgewise.

“I think my mom likes you better than she likes me, babe,” Puck says, pulling back to grin at Kurt up close before he presses a kiss against Kurt’s mouth. “She wouldn’t shut up about you all night.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” Kurt’s hands land on the front of Puck’s jacket, smoothing down the leather and then back up again to rest against his chest. “Anyway, I won’t be able to say the same about my father if he catches sight of your handiwork.”

Puck’s fingers trace the bruise on Kurt’s neck, grinning as though he has something to be proud of. Kurt rolls his eyes, because honestly, it’s not as though it takes talent to deliver a hickey, but he lets Puck lean in to fit his mouth over his mark anyway. He kisses his way up the side of Kurt’s neck to press their lips together, one hand on Kurt’s hip and the other resting at the back of his neck. His fingers are stroking through the fine hairs right at the base of Kurt’s skull, sending tiny shivers down his spine, and Kurt’s dangerously close to forgetting where they are when a familiar voice drags him back to reality.

“Hello? Earth to Kurt, I know you’re in love or whatever, but there are still other people in the world.”

Kurt blushes bright red at the word ‘love’, pulling away from Puck to glare at Mercedes. He sort of expects Puck to object, to deny that this is more than sex, maybe, or insist that nobody’s in love here. Instead he keeps his hand on Kurt’s neck and glances over at Mercedes long enough to smirk at her.

“Jealous?”

“In your dreams,” she says, rolling her eyes at Puck before she turns to glare right back at Kurt. “Do you even know what time it is?”

There are several ways Kurt could answer that question, but in the end he opts for the one that’s least likely to make Mercedes any angrier than she already seems to be. He knows she doesn’t approve of his relationship with Puck, but they _are_ supposed to be best friends, and he’d like to think they can get past the hurts of the past few weeks and move on.

“Should I?” he asks, reaching up to ease Puck’s hand off his neck. Mercedes follows the motion, eyes narrowing when she catches sight of Puck’s mark right before Kurt pulls his scarf back into position.

Judging by the heft of Mercedes’ sigh, Kurt assumes that yes, he should know what time it is.

“We’re performing our number in Glee today. We agreed to meet before school and rehearse, remember? You were supposed to meet us in the choir room ten minutes ago.”

Kurt has no recollection of that conversation whatsoever, but if it happened on Monday night they could have asked him to appear in the boys’ locker room right after football practice in a tutu and he would have agreed. So he probably did say he’d meet them to rehearse, but he doesn’t see what the big deal is about being a little late.

“Sorry, I guess it slipped my mind,” he answers. Mercedes rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, which means she’s waiting for him to move, so he glances over at Puck and lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “The show must go on, I suppose.”

“Whatever,” Puck answers, but he slides an arm around Kurt’s shoulders as he pushes himself off the lockers, and Kurt smiles and leans into his body heat as Puck steers them toward the choir room.

“Not you,” Mercedes says, hand out to stop Puck in his tracks, and it’s a testament to how hard he’s working to change that Puck raises an eyebrow instead of taking her hand clean off. “Go find your own group, if they haven’t kicked you out for being completely worthless.”

She grips Kurt’s arm and pulls him away from Puck and down the hall, and all Kurt can do is glance helplessly over his shoulder to watch Puck frown after them.

“Wait,” Puck calls, but Mercedes doesn’t even break her stride. “Whose group am I in?”

~

It turns out that Puck’s group consists of Finn, Rachel, and Brittany, like that makes any sense. Which means the final group consists of Sam, Quinn, Artie, and Santana, and Kurt can only assume it’s because Rachel put her foot down when they tried to make her sing with Sam and Quinn. And he’s not going to complain about Puck not being in a group with Santana, but he _is_ complaining about Puck not being in a group with Kurt.

He should have paid more attention while the groups were being assigned, obviously, because no one even paid any attention to whose voices would work best together. And this is all Mercedes’ fault, he’s sure of it, because if she hadn’t been holding some sort of meeting about his relationship when he walked into Glee last week, he wouldn’t have been distracted when they got to the actual choosing of teams.

Kurt has no idea if Puck’s figured out his own group yet, because he hasn’t actually seen Puck since Mercedes dragged him away from his locker. She makes them go over the dance steps until the first bell rings, so all Kurt gets is a glimpse of Puck down the hall before he’s forced to sprint to French class to avoid being late.

He consoles himself through his first class by telling himself that at least they’ll have lunch together. It’s not much, granted, but half an hour spent sitting next to Puck, complaining about the fact that he’s been relegated to backup singer for their group performance, is still better than nothing.

Plus, there’s the way Puck can’t seem to keep his hands to himself when they’re together. Kurt’s not too proud to admit, at least privately, that he likes the way Puck touches him, likes the brush of fingers against his or the press of a hand on his hip as Puck pulls him closer. He likes the way Puck leans in to press warm kisses against his neck, likes the little shivers they send down the center of his chest. And now that he knows without a doubt that Puck means every single one of them...well, that just makes it even better.

He’s weaving his way through student bodies on the way to his next class, smiling and humming Mercedes’ unfortunate song choice under his breath -- and he _really_ needs to start paying attention in Glee, no matter how distracting Puck is -- when a hand closes around his bicep and hauls him out of the flow of traffic. Kurt’s stomach knots and he feels the familiar rush of dread, muscles tensing under the strong grip and his fight or flight response is already kicking in when he looks over and sees that it’s Puck.

The fear drains out of him almost immediately, but it leaves behind a jittery, adrenaline-charged ball of tension in his stomach, and he can feel his face heating up. Puck, for his part, looks surprised and maybe a little sorry, but he doesn’t let go of Kurt’s arm as he guides him toward an empty doorway.

“Babe, you gotta chill,” Puck says, and he’s not positive, but judging by the way Puck’s hands are running down his arms, Kurt assumes what he really means is _I’m sorry_.

A week ago he would have snapped a defensive, “That’s easy for you to say,” but he knows now that all the apologies have been sincere, so instead he says, “You just startled me.”

He doesn’t bother saying why, because they both know. They both know that two years ago Puck would be ushering him into a filthy, disgusting stall in the boys’ bathroom by now for his weekly swirly, and that just makes the fact that he’s _comforting_ Kurt even weirder.

He turns his face up for a kiss and Puck obliges, grinning at him close-up before he fuses their mouths together and distracts Kurt from the lingering panic that makes his hands shake a little where they’re gripping Puck’s jacket. Puck’s hands are still running up and down his arms, and when they sweep down his forearms to close around Kurt’s own hands, he knows Puck can tell he’s still kind of freaked out.

Which is weird all on its own, because Kurt’s never really thought of Puck as the observant type. At least not regarding anything that isn’t directly related to him, but then again, he never really expected Puck to press him into a doorway and kiss him in full view of the rest of the school, so he should be used to surprises by now.

“How was rehearsal?” Puck asks when he lets Kurt up for air, hands still closed around Kurt’s and it feels...nice, Puck’s thumbs rubbing his knuckles while he uses his entire body to press Kurt into the wall.

Kurt rolls his eyes and turns his hands in Puck’s until their fingers are threaded together. “I have no idea what I was thinking, letting Mercedes choose the song she did. I might as well not even be there.”

Puck makes a noise that could mean anything, pretty much, then he pushes forward to kiss Kurt again. And they’re going to be late for class, not that Puck cares, but he’s still got one more day of detention left, and if he gets detention for Thursday too, Kurt’s going to kill Puck himself.

“You’re in Finn and Rachel’s group, by the way,” Kurt murmurs against his mouth. “My condolences.”

Puck huffs a laugh that warms Kurt’s lips and sends a shiver of pleasure through his stomach.

“Yeah, I know. Berry practically clotheslined me in the hall earlier and told me I better show up in the choir room at lunch so we could practice.”

Which means Kurt doesn’t even get _lunch_ with Puck, and that hardly seems fair. Before Puck it seemed as though Kurt had endless hours of free time to fill up, and now it feels like they’re both so busy they barely have more than a few moments together at a time. He knows it’s not true -- they shared some quality time in Puck’s bedroom just last night, after all -- but the more time he spends with Puck, the more he wants.

Or maybe it’s the fact that he finally believes this is real; now that he knows for sure that Puck means it, every kiss feels even more intense. And he’s still in way over his head, because he’s falling hard for someone who probably doesn’t even know the definition of the word ‘love’, but that’s not how it feels when Puck kisses him.

“What are you doing after detention?” Kurt asks, and he’s aware that he probably sounds a little needy, but he doesn’t even care anymore.

Puck grins and tugs one hand out of Kurt’s to grip his hip, fingers dipping under the waistband of Kurt’s pants at the back and making Kurt blush. “Getting in your pants.”

It sounds like a perfect plan to him, and he’s about to ask if this de-pantsing is going to happen at his place or Puck’s when the warning bell rings. He sighs and catches Puck’s hand to pull it away from his hip. “You better not be late, you don’t want any more detentions.”

For a second Puck looks like he wants to argue, then he shakes his head and plants one last firm kiss on Kurt’s mouth. One more grin and he’s gone, leaving Kurt breathless and a little red-faced and just slightly disheveled, and for the first time ever he doesn’t even consider stopping to check his hair in the bathroom mirror on the way to class.

~

When lunch time finally rolls around Kurt takes his time putting his books in his locker and making his way to the cafeteria. By the time he finally gets to their usual table Mercedes and Tina are already there, heads bent together and whispering about something. As soon as Mercedes looks up and sees him she stops talking, and hello, Kurt knows her, so it’s not like he can’t tell they’ve been talking about him.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Mercedes asks, and it’s all he can do not to roll his eyes.

“Rehearsing. Though I would have thought you’d know that already, considering you and Rachel worked out a schedule for use of the choir room.”

It’s a guess, but when Mercedes flushes and looks away he knows he’s right. And he wasn’t really planning to do this in front of witnesses, but they’re going to have to do it sometime, and anyway Tina will hear all about it eventually.

“So are you jealous that I’m spending time with someone else, or is this about Puck specifically?”

“What?” Mercedes says, eyes flashing in a way that would make most people cower, but Kurt knows her better than anyone, and he’s not afraid of Mercedes.

“You heard me,” Kurt says, keeping his voice calm as he picks at what passes for a salad in the McKinley cafeteria. “Clearly you’re upset about one or the other. I hope it’s not the latter, but if it is, you’ll just have to find a way to get past it.”

“First of all, I do not want Puck,” Mercedes says, and Kurt looks up to see whether or not she’s telling the truth. She looks sincere, and he truly hopes she is, because he doesn’t know how to deal with the idea of his best friend pining for his boyfriend.

“And I’m not jealous. I’m _worried_ about you, Kurt. I’m trying to be a good friend here.”

Kurt snorts a laugh before he can stop it, and when Mercedes’ hand curls into a fist against the table Tina’s eyes go wide. She stands abruptly and mumbles something about pudding, but neither of them look at her as she makes her escape.

“You’re trying to be a good friend by staging interventions behind my back? Interfering in the first real relationship I’ve had? That’s what you call being supportive?”

“I know how you get when you think you’re in love, Kurt. But this isn’t some harmless crush on someone like Finn. It’s _Puck_. I don’t know what he’s up to, but he always has an ulterior motive.”

“Why? Because he had one when he dated you?”

As soon as he says it he regrets it, because he sees the sting in Mercedes’ eyes. But he doesn’t take it back, because it’s the truth, and anyway she’s the one who started this.

“Because it’s Puck, Kurt. Are you telling me you’ve never considered that maybe he’s playing you?”

“Of course,” Kurt answers, because that’s the truth too. “I know what he’s capable of better than anyone. But he’s changed a lot since he joined Glee, and I have good reason to believe that he’s being sincere.”

“And if he’s not?”

Kurt shrugs and does his best to ignore the way his face heats up at the question. Because he _is_ sure, whether Mercedes chooses to believe him or not. He thinks about telling her about the bruises, just to convince her that he’s right. But she’ll just find some way to dismiss them as insufficient proof of Puck’s commitment to their relationship, and Kurt’s not going to let her ruin that.

“It’s my mistake to make,” he finally answers. “So you can be my friend and let me make it, or you can find someone else to be your best friend. It’s up to you.”

For a second she looks a little panicked, and surprisingly enough, it makes feel Kurt better. It’s comforting to know that she misses their friendship as much as he does, anyway, even if he has less time to spend with her now.

“I’m surprised you even noticed I haven’t been around, what with Puck hanging all over you every second.”

“Kind of like when you and Santana became BFF for five seconds,” Kurt says, raising an eyebrow when she opens her mouth to object, and at least she has the grace to look embarrassed. “Besides, Puck and I don’t spend every second together. In fact, I thought you might like to go to the mall on Saturday night. We could hang out at my house afterwards; I have _Legally Blonde: The Musical_ on the DVR.”

“Sure you don’t have to check with your man first?” Mercedes asks, but she’s smiling now, and Kurt finds himself smiling back.

“He’s my boyfriend, not my warden,” Kurt answers. For the sake of their friendship, Kurt keeps the fact that Puck has a standing date with his grandmother every Saturday night to himself.

~

“Bad news, babe,” Puck says when he slides into the chair next to Kurt before Glee. “Rachel’s freaking out over how much we suck and she’s forcing us to spend, like, the whole night rehearsing. She’s already pissed that my last detention’s cutting into her schedule or whatever. Like it’s my fault her freak of nature boyfriend can’t dance.”

Puck huffs out a derisive snort that doesn’t make Kurt feel a single bit better, because Puck spending the whole night rehearsing means Kurt spends the whole night alone. And it’s only one night, but he’s starting to feel like the entire _universe_ is cockblocking him. He knows he should take comfort in the fact that they’ve got guaranteed alone time tomorrow, but he’s spent most of the day anticipating what happens when Puck shows up after detention tonight, and tomorrow feels like a long time to wait all of a sudden.

“Surely she can’t keep you _all_ night. Anyway, I bet you could fit through my basement window.”

Puck laughs at that and leans in, tugging Kurt’s scarf open as he presses a kiss to the soft skin just under Kurt’s ear. “Damn right I could. But if your dad caught us I’d probably be banned from your house forever, and you’d be grounded for life.”

Kurt’s not convinced that his father would be _that_ unreasonable. He probably wouldn’t be impressed, but banning Puck from his bedroom for life seems like overkill. Then again, his father still gets a little uncomfortable when Kurt uses the word ‘boyfriend’ in front of him, so a live demonstration probably wouldn’t go over that well. Still, he’s fairly sure Puck never worried about Santana’s parents, or even Quinn’s, probably.

“Since when do you worry about getting caught?”

Puck shrugs and leans back in his chair like it doesn’t matter, but he’s avoiding Kurt’s gaze instead of grinning and trying to change the subject, and that means he’s nervous. “Since I started hanging out with you.”

He could mean anything by that; he could mean that he doesn’t want to hear the lecture from Kurt if he lands himself in trouble and gets himself grounded or worse, or he could just mean that Kurt’s one of those boring ‘good influences’ his mother wants him to spend his time with.

But he could also mean that being with Kurt makes him care about the consequences for the first time. That he cares what happens to _them_ , and just the thought makes Kurt’s stomach flood with a thousand butterflies.

He opens his mouth to say...something, though he has no idea what. He’s saved the trouble of figuring it out when Mr. Schuester walks into the room, smiling and calling up Kurt’s group for their performance. Puck’s still not looking at him, and Kurt knows it would be easy to stand up and join the rest of his group at the front of the room. They could let the subject drop entirely, and it would be a little tense for awhile, but eventually they’d be back to normal.

Only Kurt doesn’t want to let it drop, at least not for good. He still doesn’t know what to _say_ , though, so in the end he settles for reaching up and pulling the scarf Puck keeps untying away from his neck. He folds it carefully and drops it on Puck’s thigh, fingers pressing against his knee for just a second before he stands up and climbs down the riser to take his place next to Mike.

When he risks a glance up at Puck he’s holding the scarf in one hand, fingers sort of caressing the silky fabric as he watches Kurt. His eyes are dark and heavy and Kurt feels the weight of his gaze from halfway across the room, feels it on his skin as warmth spreads up his neck and into his cheeks, and he can honestly say that he’s never wanted to hurt Rachel Berry as much as he does right now.

~

It’s almost 11:00 when Kurt’s phone beeps. He’s nearly done with his moisturizing regimen, but he dives for it anyway, heart skipping a beat at the sight of Puck’s name on his caller ID. And it’s silly, really, because they just saw each other a few hours ago. Puck walked him to his car after Glee, pressed him up against the side of the Navigator and kissed him more thoroughly than he probably should have, considering he was about to spend the next hour in an enclosed space with a crowd of the finest juvenile delinquents McKinley has to offer.

The kiss was amazing, of course, so intense it left Kurt feeling weak in the knees. But it was different somehow than Puck’s usual smoldering intensity, and so far Kurt hasn’t been able to put his finger on why. He’s spent the evening feeling restless for no real reason, and knowing he won’t see Puck again until tomorrow isn’t making it any easier to shake it off.

Kurt frowns at the memory and flips his phone open to read Puck’s text.

 _open ur windw_

He glances toward the stairs to make sure his door’s shut, then he glances in the mirror to make sure his nose isn’t too shiny from moisturizer before he stands up and drags his vanity bench over to the window. It looks smaller than he remembers suddenly, but he pushes it open anyway and then jumps out of the way when a pair of boots pushes through the opening.

They’re followed by long legs clad in blue denim, and for a second when Puck’s halfway through Kurt’s positive he’s going to get stuck. But he shimmies a little and suddenly his shoulders pop free, and Puck drops onto his bedroom floor looking red-faced and pleased with himself. Then he throws an appraising glance over his shoulder at the window and looks back at Kurt.

“Not sure I can get back out the way I came in.”

It’s a problem, because if he tries to sneak Puck back out the front door, his father’s bound to wake up and come investigate. But Puck’s already inside, grinning and rubbing his arms against the cold and Kurt decides to worry about an exit strategy later.

“I thought you were worried about my father,” Kurt says, but he’s inching closer, reaching out with one hand to grip the leather of the jacket Kurt bought him.

“This was your idea.”

It’s true, but he’s not sure why Puck sounds so defensive about it. It’s not like Kurt isn’t happy to see him, no matter how tired they’re both going to be in the morning.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Kurt says, gripping both sides of Puck’s jacket to drag him forward until he can feel the cold night air still clinging to Puck’s clothes. “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of Puck’s mouth, and as soon as their lips touch Puck turns into him. A strong arm slides around his waist, then there’s a hand in his hair and Puck's angling his head just so, breathing in sharply through his nose and opening his mouth to let Kurt in. Kurt takes the invitation gladly, sighing into the kiss and he feels something uncoil in the center of his chest, a tight knot of tension that’s been there since the last time they saw each other.

He pushes his hands under Puck’s jacket and shoves until Puck gets with the program and pulls it off, letting it drop in a heap on the floor behind him. Puck pulls back far enough to look at him then, breath warm against Kurt’s lips when he says, “...your dad?”

“Asleep already, with any luck,” Kurt answers, congratulating himself on sounding more sure than he feels. He slides his arms around Puck’s neck and backs toward his bed, and when Puck doesn’t fight him Kurt’s stomach ties itself in knots.

Puck’s still kissing him when the back of his legs hit the mattress, and he sits down hard on the edge of the bed and slides backwards to give Puck enough room to crawl over him and stretch out, pressing Kurt into the mattress from his chest all the way down to his ankles.

He’s imagined Puck stretched out on top of him like this more times than he can count in the weeks since all this started. It’s become something of an obsession for him, truth be told, ever since that first Friday night on his couch when Puck crawled on top of him only to scramble right back off him again.

At the time he assumed Puck was having second thoughts about being intimate with another boy, but now that Kurt knows Puck was just trying to court him the right way...well, it’s kind of sweet. Dumb, but sweet, and Kurt smiles at the memory and parts his legs to let Puck settle between them. He moans into Kurt’s mouth and grinds against him, dragging their erections together through too many layers of clothes.

“What time do you have to be home?”

The words come out kind of breathy, his voice breaking a little on the end of the sentence when Puck’s tongue slides across the mark he left on Kurt the night before. But as soon as Kurt starts talking Puck tenses, then he’s pulling back and before Kurt has time to react he’s swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Jesus, Kurt, if you didn’t want me to come over you should have just texted me or something.”

And okay, now he’s being completely unfair.

“Puck,” Kurt says, and when that doesn’t work he tries again, softer this time. “Noah.”

Kurt’s kneeling in the center of his bed in pinstriped Ralph Lauren pajamas, his hair disheveled and his face flushed and he’s sure Puck can _see_ exactly how much Kurt wants him here. At the sound of his name he looks over his shoulder at Kurt, but instead of raising an eyebrow and saying something filthy and vaguely offensive he just heaves a sigh and lets his shoulders fall a little.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Kurt says, and for the love of Prada, now he’s _crawling across the mattress on his knees_ to comfort Noah Puckerman. He’s not sure when his whole world stopped making sense, but he almost doesn’t even mind. “Just...stay. Unless it’s going to get you grounded or something.”

Puck huffs a laugh and reaches up to close his hand around Kurt’s where it's resting on his shoulder. Just holding Kurt’s hand, and it doesn’t reconcile at all with what Kurt thought he knew about Puck, because a few months ago -- a few _weeks_ ago -- Kurt would have expected Puck to push him back onto the bed, to end the conversation with truly mind blowing kisses and just sweep whatever he might be feeling right under the same rug where he’s been hiding his bisexuality all this time.

Instead Puck looks down at their joined hands, then he sighs again and looks up at Kurt. “Is there something weird going on with you and Hudson?”

“Finn? Other than his bizarre notion that somehow we’re family now, no. Why, what did he say to you?"

“Nothing, it’s just...he’s been acting weird ever since we hooked up. At first I thought he was just being a dick about the whole gay thing, but every time I try to ask him what his problem is, he just gives me this look like he’s thinking about punching me and walks away. He was being a total asshole during rehearsal tonight, and when I finally called him on it he just stormed out. And Berry blamed me for running him off. Can you believe that?”

Yes, Kurt can certainly believe it, just like he can kind of sympathize when it comes to Rachel’s blinders where Finn’s concerned. He’s not _proud_ of it or anything, but he knows what it’s like to be taken in by Finn’s sweet and clueless routine. Now that he knows Finn’s more about self-preservation than even Puck, it’s not so charming, but he can’t blame Rachel for not wanting to see it.

“I don’t know why he’s so angry. He hasn’t said anything to me,” Kurt says, and it’s the truth, but one thing he knows for sure is that it’s definitely not because Finn’s jealous. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Whatever,” Puck says, then he turns into Kurt, gaze wandering down the front of his pajamas, and the panic when he thought Puck was leaving _had_ managed to cool Kurt’s ardor a little, but now that Puck’s looking at him like he’s on the menu or something, Kurt’s dick is right back at attention. “You look good all wrinkled and shit.”

Puck leans in, smile curving against Kurt’s neck as he kisses his way back up to Kurt’s mouth. He pulls his hand out of Kurt’s to grip his hip, pushing him back onto the mattress and stretching out on top of him again. He sucks Kurt’s bottom lip between his own, dragging a breathy moan out of Kurt when he tightens his grip on Kurt’s hip and pulls him even closer.

It’s still a little hard to believe this is actually happening, but Puck’s grinding against him, erection straining against the jeans he’s still wearing. Kurt reaches between them to tug Puck’s fly open, earning himself a breathy laugh against his mouth when he pops the button open and reaches for Puck’s zipper.

He’s sliding it down carefully, taking his time, teasing a little, sure, but the idea is to remind Puck why he's here, in spite of what Finn or anyone else thinks. Puck’s breath quickens a little and Kurt smiles against his mouth, eases the zipper all the way down and he’s about to slide a hand inside when a crashing sound from the floor above them makes them both freeze.

“What...”

“Shh,” Kurt hisses, hand still frozen just inside Puck’s jeans as he listens. There are no footsteps coming down the hall toward his door, which means his father probably hasn’t heard them and decided to investigate the strange noises coming from his son’s room. But his father hasn’t been well, and whatever fell was loud and heavy and...

“Oh, God. It could be...I need to go check on my dad.”

Puck doesn’t argue; he doesn’t even suggest that maybe Kurt should put on something besides scandalously thin pajamas. He just nods and rolls off Kurt, lets him climb off the bed and hurry up the stairs.

When he reaches the hallway he’s met with silence, and Kurt tries to slow the erratic beating of his heart as he makes his way into the living room. There’s nothing out of place there either, and he’s so busy picturing his father slumped on the floor next to his bed or in the bathroom that he doesn’t even notice the light coming from the kitchen until the door opens and his father appears.

“Kurt. What are you doing up? I didn’t wake you when I dropped that plate, did I? Sorry about that.”

As soon as he sees his father -- upright and talking and holding a plate with a sandwich and it’s probably nearly midnight and he should be _sleeping_ \-- the panic floods out of Kurt, leaving him with a jittery, adrenaline-charged sense of relief that makes him want to cry. He opens his mouth to answer, to say that he was just going to bed, but all he manages is a truly pathetic squeak.

“You okay, son?” Burt asks, frowning at him and Kurt can’t decide whether to laugh or cry.

He nods and clears his throat, swallows against a sudden tightness in his chest and tries again. “Fine, Dad. I heard a crash and I thought maybe...what are you doing, anyway? You’re on a strict diet for a reason, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“It's turkey on whole wheat,” Burt says, but he’s still frowning when he sets the sandwich down on the coffee table and crosses the room to stop in front of Kurt. "I even skipped the mayo, I swear. Son, you know this trip to see the specialist tomorrow is just a precaution, right? Doc says I’m doing great, mostly thanks to your nursing skills.”

Kurt nods and blinks a few times to clear the sudden stinging in the corners of his eyes. And suddenly he feels like the lowest kind of scum there is, lower than any of those morons at school who slam him into lockers and call him awful names like it’s a sport, because he’s got a boy in his room -- in his _bed_ \-- and he’s planning to skip his afternoon classes to bring the same boy right back here again tomorrow, and his father’s busy telling him what a great son he is.

“I know, Dad. I was just startled.”

Burt reaches out and squeezes his shoulder, which just makes it even harder not to cry, but Kurt manages what he hopes is a convincing smile.

“Well, I’m sorry I woke you. Go get some sleep and stop worrying so much about your old man, okay? It’s late and you’ve got school in the morning.”

Kurt nods and leaves his father to his -- at least heart-healthy, if not exactly well-timed -- midnight snack. He pulls the basement door shut carefully, biting his lip as he takes the stairs a little more slowly than necessary. Because Puck’s waiting for him in his _bed_ , and Kurt really, _really_ wants to take advantage of that, but his dad’s in the room right above his, and if he hears them his dad will know just how little Kurt deserves his trust.

He’s resolved to tell Puck that this can’t happen after all, not tonight, and deal with the consequences, but when he reaches the bottom of the stairs and looks over at the bed, Puck’s fast asleep. He’s still fully dressed -- including his shoes, which are on Kurt’s duvet cover -- though he hasn’t bothered to zip his jeans back up. He’s got one arm tucked under one of Kurt’s feather pillows, mouth open and he’s snoring a little, and Kurt’s so completely hopeless, because when Puck snuffles in his sleep and burrows further into the pillow, Kurt's heart actually skips a beat.

And he can’t let Puck _stay_ , not when his mother has no idea where he is. She might be blind to most of Puck’s faults, but even she must notice when one of her children doesn’t come home. Kurt sighs and picks up Puck’s jacket, intent on crossing to the bed and waking him up just to kick him out into the cold. He has no idea how he’ll actually get Puck out of the house without alerting his father to what’s going on in his room, of course, but he knows he has to try.

He’s worrying Puck’s jacket with one hand when he feels it vibrate, and Kurt reaches into a pocket and pulls out Puck’s phone. There’s a new text, and he’s not planning to invade Puck’s privacy or anything, but he looks, just to see who it’s from. When he sees the words _new txt msg from Ma_ his heart skips another beat, and he’s glad suddenly that Puck’s not awake to see him blushing.

Kurt flips the phone open and reads the text: _do you know what time it is?_

Somehow knowing Puck’s mother actually cares where her son is at midnight makes Kurt feel better, and he makes a decision and scrolls through Puck’s contacts until he finds the number he’s looking for. The line connects before the first ring even finishes, and Kurt hears a vaguely familiar voice in his ear.

“Noah? Where are you? And if it’s the police station, I swear...”

“Hi, Mrs. Puckerman? This is Kurt Hummel, Noah’s friend? Everything’s fine,” Kurt adds when he hears the sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry to call so late, but I was helping Noah with his Geometry homework, and between football and Glee and trying so hard to do better in school, the poor thing must be exhausted. He fell asleep on my couch a little while ago. I can wake him up and send him home...”

He’s laying it on a little thick, certainly, but he recognized a kindred spirit in Puck’s mother the night before when she loaded him up with more food than any grown man could eat. He knows a drama queen when he meets one, and it turns out appealing to her sense of drama is exactly the right way to go.

“No, no, don’t do that. He’s been trying so hard since that they let him out of that terrible place,” she says, voice suddenly softer, and Kurt smiles and glances over at Puck to watch him grunt in his sleep and turn onto his side. “He didn’t belong there in the first place, I told his lawyer _and_ the judge. Let him sleep. He can be a little difficult to wake up in the morning, so you might want to start early if you want to get to school on time.”

“That won’t be a problem, Mrs. Puckerman,” Kurt says, and he’s glad she can’t see him blushing as he pictures all the ways he could make sure Puck’s awake in time for school. “Goodnight.”

He hangs up Puck’s phone and puts it back in his jacket pocket, then he drapes the jacket carefully over the back of the couch Puck definitely isn’t sleeping on before he crosses the room and reaches for Puck’s shoes. He pulls them off and sets them on the floor next to the bed before he turns off the light, then he tugs his covers down and somehow manages to maneuver Puck under them without waking him.

So his mother’s right that he’s a heavy sleeper, Kurt figures as he slides under the covers and presses himself into Puck’s side. There’s another grunt from the body next to his, then an arm slides around his waist, and Kurt looks up, expecting to find Puck awake and waiting for an explanation. But he’s still fast asleep, and Kurt smiles and leans up to brush a kiss across Puck’s cheek before he closes his eyes.

~

Kurt wakes up at 5:00 am, hair sweaty and stuck to his forehead, and a furnace attached to his back. It takes him a second or two to realize the furnace is shaped like his boyfriend, and the reason he’s sweaty is because Puck’s arm is still clamped around his waist and he’s radiating heat all the way down Kurt’s back.

He’s breathing against Kurt’s neck, little puffs of hot air adding to the whole furnace motif and making it difficult for Kurt to enjoy waking up with another boy wrapped around him for the first time. Then Puck grunts in his sleep and presses even closer, and Kurt’s about to give up and shove him back to his own corner, heavy sleeper or not, when he feels Puck’s erection pressing against his ass through his thin pajamas.

It’s not as though he’s never _thought_ about it before. He’s wondered what it would be like, with Puck, sure, but he’s fantasized about plenty of guys, most of whom he’ll probably never meet in real life. He’s done a little experimenting, mostly with his own fingers and the liberal application of lube, but it’s so _messy_ and it doesn’t seem worth it when he’s on his own.

Puck’s worth the mess, he thinks. He’d probably even be good at it, because chances are he’s done it before.

Kurt’s stomach twists at the thought, and he’s not jealous or anything, but it’s hard not to be a little self-conscious about how much experience he doesn’t have. Even if the reason for his status as a virgin -- well, a technical virgin, anyway -- is lack of opportunity rather than a lack of desire, it’s still hard to relax when he remembers exactly how much experience he’s being measured against.

He pushes back experimentally, stomach twisting even harder when Puck mumbles something in his sleep and thrusts forward to meet him. A jolt of desire shoots straight to Kurt’s cock, and he tries and fails to bite back a gasp at the sensation. Puck’s still wearing his jeans, rough and too thick against Kurt’s pajamas and they have to be even more uncomfortable for Puck. They’re still unzipped from where Kurt _was_ working on getting them off last night before they were interrupted, and he knows if they keep it up the zipper’s going to snag something that one or both of them will regret.

Puck’s still fast asleep, as far as he can tell, hips moving in a more or less steady rhythm, and his arm’s tight around Kurt’s waist. He wants to turn around, just long enough to push Puck’s jeans down his thighs, but turning to face him means giving up the solid press of Puck’s erection against his ass, and if he turns his back to Puck again once he’s got Puck undressed...well, he might as well just ask Puck to fuck him at that point.

The second he thinks it Puck’s hips thrust forward harder, and Kurt bites back a moan when the hand on his stomach pushes up under his pajama top. He can’t tell if Puck’s awake or not, but now there’s a -- solid, warm, _large_ \-- hand on his abdomen, fingers splayed across his skin and pulling Kurt back into the insistent press of Puck’s denim-covered erection.

And this is really too much; it’s taking things too far, because his father’s right upstairs and granted, he probably won’t wake up for another hour, but Puck’s still asleep too, and that means Kurt’s...well, he’s not taking advantage, exactly, but that’s sort of how it feels. Then again, he’s the only one awake here, and he’s not the one grinding his erection against someone else’s Ralph Lauren pajamas, so it’s not like he’s even getting a whole lot out of this except an erection that’s starting to ache with neglect and a whole series of mental images he didn’t really need on the morning of the day he finally gets Puck completely alone without a chance of interruption.

He can feel the sweat dampening his hairline and running down his back, making his pajamas stick to his skin and Kurt wants to pull them off, just to get a little relief from the relentless heat of Puck’s whole body wrapped around him. But doing that would mean extricating himself somehow from Puck’s grip, and when the hand on his stomach starts moving, Kurt knows he’s not going anywhere.

Puck mumbles again, voice close to Kurt’s ear now, and he doesn’t make out the words, but he _feels_ them against his skin, and that’s more than ample to get their meaning across. Then Puck’s mouth brushes the damp skin at the back of his neck, tongue sliding through salt and sweat and Kurt’s whole body shudders in spite of his best attempts to hold himself still.

He’s about to turn in the circle of Puck’s arm, to face him and maybe apologize for the accidental predawn molestation, tell Puck to go back to sleep or maybe just to get up and go home before his father wakes up and catches him here. But before he convinces his body to work with him, _Puck’s_ moving, pulling away just far enough to kick off the sheet and then his jeans before he’s back again, pressed against Kurt and sliding his arm around Kurt’s waist to fit them together.

And now...now he can feel the heat of Puck’s cock, heavy and impossibly hard through his thin pajamas. He feels it bucking up against him with every thrust of Puck’s hips, and he stops trying to hold back the tiny gasps he makes every time Puck grinds up to meet him. Puck’s talking again, into the back of his neck this time, mouth moving on sweat-slick skin and Kurt thinks he should be embarrassed about how _hot_ he is, but it’s sort of Puck’s fault, so he decides not to worry about it.

Puck’s hand is back on his stomach, pushing his pajamas out of the way to get to skin, fingers splayed and dragging across Kurt’s abdomen like he’s _claiming_ him or something, and Kurt’s breath catches on a gasp when Puck growls and pushes the top of his pajama pants down.

Just a little -- an inch, maybe two -- and then he stops, his hips stop moving and his hand freezes at the base of Kurt’s stomach. Kurt tenses for a second, then he realizes what Puck’s waiting for and nods jerkily against the pillow. Puck lets out a hot breath against his shoulder and pushes Kurt’s pajamas and boxer briefs down his thighs, stopping when they’re halfway down and hooking his arm around Kurt’s waist to pull him flush against Puck again.

And that’s...so much better, Kurt thinks, but his heart’s racing and when Puck thrusts against him again he wonders wildly if he just agreed to something he’s not entirely sure he’s ready for. But Puck’s not really _doing_ anything except rocking against him, mouthing hot kisses to the back of his neck and then his shoulder, cock sliding against the sweat pooled along Kurt’s backside and when he feels Puck slip into the crease of his ass he doesn’t quite manage to bite back a moan.

That gets him a throaty chuckle, right up next to his ear and sending shivers all the way down his spine. Then Puck’s hand leaves his stomach and finally -- _finally_ \-- closes around his cock, fisting Kurt in time with the lazy thrusts of his hips. Kurt rocks between Puck’s dick and his hand, pressing back for more and when he feels Puck’s balls slide against his opening, he makes a high, strangled noise in the back of his throat and digs his fingers into Puck’s thigh.

Puck’s mouth is moving on his neck, closing over the mark he left there just two days ago and sucking until Kurt’s panting and tensing against him, clutching even harder at Puck’s bare thigh and he's not sure if he’s trying to get away from the relentless not-quite-pain or just trying to get _more_. As soon as he thinks it the pressure eases, Puck’s tongue sliding over the spot and then he presses a kiss to the side of Kurt’s neck, soft and weirdly sweet and later Kurt might remember to be embarrassed that that’s the thing that pulls him over the edge.

But for now he’s not thinking at all, because he’s too busy coming on Puck’s fingers and his own stomach and the sheet beneath them. His lips are parted, eyes closed and panting and when he feels a slick finger slide along his bottom lip he slides his tongue out to taste himself on Puck’s skin. His lips close around the tip of Puck’s finger, tongue gathering the bitter taste of his own come and the salt of Puck’s skin and he reaches up and closes his hand around Puck’s to hold him there while he sucks his index finger all the way in.

There’s a low moan from behind him, and Kurt huffs a soft, breathy laugh and dips his tongue into the thin skin between Puck’s fingers. That gets him a full body shudder and a sharp thrust of Puck’s hips against his ass, and he had no idea Puck had a thing for having his fingers sucked, but he’s certainly willing to accommodate.

Kurt lets Puck’s index finger slide from between his lips with a wet pop, then he closes his mouth around Puck’s middle finger and starts all over again. Puck’s rocking harder against him, dick sliding easy over Kurt’s sweat-slick skin and he can tell how close Puck is by the little grunts that escape him with each thrust.

It’s only the second time they’ve been together like this and they’re still half-dressed, Kurt’s legs trapped in the pajamas still caught around his thighs. He wonders what it would feel like if he could bend one knee and open himself up a little more, if it would let Puck press even closer. But he can’t find out, not without stopping Puck and pulling away long enough to get out of his pajamas, and even if they had the time, he’s not sure he _could_ stop Puck now.

So he focuses on the finger still caught between his lips, sliding his mouth all the way down and dipping his tongue between Puck’s fingers to drag another moan out of him. When he abandons Puck’s middle finger to slide his ring finger into his mouth, Puck bucks against him one last time and comes. It’s warm and sticky and Kurt’s surprised to find he’s kind of turned on by the idea of Puck coming on him. It’s always seemed sort of degrading when they do it in porn, but knowing he can make _Puck_ lose that much control...well, that’s something he never would have predicted.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Puck says, panting the words against Kurt’s neck, and Kurt blushes and pulls his mouth off with a little sucking noise that sounds more pornographic than he really intended.

“You sound surprised.”

“Well, yeah. Nobody’s ever given my _hand_ a blow job before.”

His laugh is warm against Kurt’s neck, and if Kurt weren’t already blushing he would be now. It was Puck’s idea, after all, so Kurt just assumed he’d known what he was asking for. Knowing he’s the first to discover that Puck’s fingers are an erogenous zone is kind of...nice. Like he’s actually giving Puck a first _something_ , which is something he hadn’t even thought was possible.

“What time is it, anyway?” Puck asks, voice a little heavy and Kurt can tell he’s thinking about going back to sleep.

“Almost six,” he answers, reluctant, because the last thing he wants to do is get up and go to school. But Carole won’t be picking up his father until after 9:00, which means Kurt has to leave the house at least until they're gone.

“Fuck,” Puck says again, but he’s awake now, pulling away and Kurt rolls onto his back and tugs his pajamas back up his legs while Puck climbs off the bed and reaches for his jeans. “I better haul ass if I want to get home before my mom notices I’m gone.”

“It’s okay. I called her last night.”

“You what?" Puck’s jeans hit the floor again, and he’s standing there in a t-shirt and nothing else, which would be sort of ridiculous, except it’s _Puck_ , so mostly it’s just ridiculously hot. Kurt swallows hard and tries to focus on the conversation, but it’s not that easy when Puck’s standing next to his bed half-naked.

“When I came back downstairs you were asleep, so I called and told her you fell asleep on the couch while we were studying. She said it was okay if you just spent the night.”

“She actually bought that I was studying?” Puck asks, like he’s genuinely surprised, and Kurt supposes that he has a point.

“I can be very convincing,” Kurt answers, and when Puck grins Kurt blushes again.

Puck plants a knee on the mattress, then he reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head. Which leaves him one hundred percent naked, and Kurt’s stomach does a funny little shivering thing when he crawls across the mattress and stretches out next to Kurt again.

“We have to get up,” Kurt says, and when Puck laughs and palms Kurt’s crotch through his pajamas and says, “Feels like that’s already taken care of,” Kurt can’t decide whether to laugh or push him off the bed.

In the end he doesn’t do either, mostly because Puck’s sucking on his earlobe, and that’s really distracting. When his mouth moves down to Kurt’s neck he sighs and flattens his hands against Puck’s chest, pushing hard enough to get his attention.

“My father will be up soon,” he says, but his hands are moving on Puck’s chest like he just can’t help himself, and he knows he’s not being very convincing. He still hasn’t figured out how to get Puck out of the house without his father knowing, and if he was smart he would have kicked Puck out of bed when he first woke up.

Puck heaves a sigh, but doesn’t let go of Kurt. “Can’t you just tell him you’re sick and blow off school?”

“He’s not leaving for a few hours,” Kurt answers, voice kind of breathy and when a hand slides under his pajama top Kurt bites down hard on a whimper. “If I tell him I’m sick he’ll just be down here every five seconds to check on me, and if he gets worked up enough he’ll cancel his appointment altogether and stay home.”

“Babe,” Puck says, his breath tickling Kurt’s ear and that’s so not fair, because how’s Kurt supposed to think when Puck’s naked and wrapped around him? “You’re not really gonna kick me out, are you?”

“We don’t have a choice. You said yourself that if he catches you here I’ll be grounded for the rest of high school, and you’ll never be allowed in the house again.” Kurt’s hand lands on top of the one pushing up under his pajamas, fingers closing around Puck’s and dragging his hand away from Kurt’s stomach. “And if he catches you like this I can’t guarantee he won’t kill you.”

Puck glances down at his own utter lack of clothes and grins, then he reaches for Kurt’s hips and drags him close again. “It’s not my fault you’re overdressed.”

“I’m serious,” Kurt says, hands on Puck’s chest and pushing backwards, but he knows he’s no match for Puck’s strength. “I promise I’ll make it up to you this afternoon.”

As soon as he says it Puck’s pushing him onto his back, rolling on top of him and pinning him down and Kurt knows he’s not going anywhere until Puck lets him. He knows he should be scared, but the truth is he trusts Puck, no matter what some of his friends might think.

“Promise?” Puck says, voice low and sort of dangerous, and the sound sends a shiver up Kurt’s spine.

His hands are still on Puck’s chest, and when Kurt looks up at him his heart skips a beat. “I promise.”

Puck grins at him up close, then he leans in and kisses Kurt again, lips parted and breathing hard through his nose and by the time he climbs off Kurt to pull his clothes back on, Kurt’s panting and sort of dazed. And he has no idea what he just agreed to, just like he’s not sure if the butterflies in his stomach are terror or anticipation.

Once Puck’s dressed Kurt pulls himself together long enough to climb off the bed, pressing a finger to his lips before he takes Puck’s hand and pulls him up the stairs. He eases his door open and listens, but when he’s met with nothing but early morning silence, Kurt lets out a soft breath and pulls Puck into the hallway and toward the front door.

He turns the lock as quietly as possible, wincing at the click that sounds louder than usual. Then he eases the door open and pushes Puck out into the cold morning air, but before Kurt can shut the door in his face Puck catches his arm and pulls him halfway out the door to kiss him again. He wants to be annoyed, because his father’s going to wake up any second, but Puck’s really distracting, and there’s a large part of Kurt that wishes they were still downstairs in his bed.

Puck’s hand feels huge where it’s wrapped around his arm, and Kurt trembles all over again at the thought of what’s going to happen in just a few hours. He’s halfway to pulling Puck right back inside and dragging him back downstairs when he hears a throat clear somewhere behind him, and Kurt tenses and jerks away from Puck at the sound of his father’s voice.

“Son? What are you doing?”

Puck’s smirking at him from the other side of the door, and Kurt’s mind races to come up with something, anything his father might believe. Then he feels something being pressed into his hands, and Kurt straightens up and shuts the door before his father gets any closer.

“Paper,” he announces, holding up the paper Puck pushed into his grip right before Kurt slammed the door in his face. “I thought you might like to read it over breakfast.”

“Thanks, son,” Burt says, but he’s frowning like he’s pretty sure he’s missing something.

The fact remains that he can’t _prove_ anything, though, so Kurt pastes on his most convincing smile and hands the paper over on the way past his father to the basement door.

“You’re welcome,” he says, keeping his eyes forward so his father won’t notice the dark red mark on the side of his neck. “I’ll just put my bathrobe on, then I’ll make you an egg substitute omelet and some turkey bacon before school.”

~

By the time Kurt actually makes it out of the house, he’s fairly sure he’s managed to convince his father that everything’s normal. He puts it down to his truly amazing acting skills; there’s no other explanation for the fact that his father doesn’t seem to notice the way Kurt’s hands shake when he asks how Noah’s doing, or the hot blush creeping up his neck when Burt suggests Kurt invite Noah to dinner on Friday.

He manages to make the appropriate noises in all the right places, anyway, which seems to satisfy his father. Right up until the moment Kurt announces that he’s going downstairs to get ready for school, when his father stands up and grips his shoulder and frowns at him.

“You sure you’re feeling okay, son? You don’t look so good.”

“Just tired, Dad,” Kurt says, and at least it’s not a lie. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“You didn’t stay up all night worrying about your old man, did you? I told you, Kurt, I’m fine.”

“I didn’t, Dad,” and that’s not a lie either. But it’s not as though he can tell his father that he’s exhausted because he woke up at 5:00 am to have sex with his boyfriend, so he just pastes as bright a smile as he can manage on his face and hopes Burt won’t notice his blush. “I have to go or I’ll be late.”

There’s only time for a quick shower and the most cursory moisturizing routine, then Kurt picks out a suitable outfit -- featuring a high-neck shirt from an up-and-coming young European designer -- and grabs his bag. He stops in the kitchen long enough to say goodbye, kissing his father on the cheek and wishing him good luck before he heads for the sanctity of his Navigator.

And now he’s sure his dad knows that something’s not quite right, because on any other day Kurt would be less concerned about getting to school on time and more concerned about fussing over his father. On a normal day his dad would have to force him out the door, but today Kurt’s too busy worrying that he’s going to notice Kurt’s acting strangely to remember to try to act normal.

He panics about it nearly all the way to school, but the closer he gets to McKinley, the more his panic shifts from thoughts of his father to thoughts of what happens in a few hours, when he’s alone with Puck again. Puck who’s expecting Kurt to fulfill some sort of promise, only Kurt has no idea what he’s agreed to.

Given what happened just this morning, he has a few theories. He doesn’t even hate the idea, but it _is_ sort of...not terrifying, exactly, but definitely distracting. He can’t stop picturing it, anyway, remembering the feeling of Puck’s arm around his waist, pulling him close and thrusting against him. By the time he gets to his locker he’s blushing hard enough to feel the heat creeping up his neck, and he’s grateful for once that Puck’s not waiting for him.

He’s less grateful when he doesn’t see Puck at all before first period, and when second period comes and goes with no sign of him, Kurt starts to worry. It’s a fairly safe bet, given the way Puck kissed him before his father almost caught them this morning, that he hasn’t changed his mind about them in the past few hours. So if Puck’s not avoiding Kurt, then there has to be some other reason for his sudden disappearing act, and each possibility Kurt comes up with is more unsettling than the last.

When he spots Finn at his locker just before fourth period Kurt swallows his pride and stops next to him. He waits until Finn closes his locker, spotting Kurt and frowning before he turns toward his next class.

“Hey.”

“Have you seen Puck today?” Kurt asks, falling into step next to Finn, and they’re headed away from Kurt’s next class, but at this point being late is the least of his worries.

“Yeah, Rachel was bitching at him outside the choir room before first period,” Finn answers. “Why?”

“I just thought I would have seen him by now, that’s all,” Kurt says, and he hates feeling so needy, but now that he knows Puck _is_ avoiding him, he wants to know why.

“Look, Kurt, I tried to warn you about this thing with Puck.” Finn stops outside his classroom, glancing around at the thinning crowd in the hallway before he looks back at Kurt. “I know he seemed pretty into it for awhile, but the guys have been giving him a really hard time. He probably just decided he’s had enough.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kurt says, but the thing is, Finn’s known Puck a lot longer than he has, and even if he wasn’t Puck’s best friend, everybody in school knows Puck doesn’t do commitment.

But he told Kurt himself that he was trying to change, and that means Kurt’s seen a different side of him than anyone else. At least he thinks that’s what it means; it’s possible that Puck changed his mind between the time he left Kurt’s house and when he got to school, but it would have taken something pretty big to bring on a change that sudden.

“Listen, I get it, you think you’re in love with him or whatever. But he’s not the nice guy you think he is, Kurt. You should have heard what he was saying about you in the locker room the other day. He told the guys that he was just using you for sex.”

Kurt’s face has been growing steadily more red with every word out of Finn’s mouth, and by the time he stops talking Kurt knows he’s blushing so hard no one could miss it. But Finn can’t be right; he misheard, maybe, or else he’s lying, though Kurt can’t imagine why he cares enough about who Kurt dates to lie about something like this. He opens his mouth to tell Finn that he’s wrong, that no matter what he thinks he heard, Kurt knows Puck wants to be with him. But before he gets the words out a hand lands on his shoulder, and Kurt glances over to find Puck standing next to him.

“That’s not what I said.”

“Fuck you, dude, I was there,” Finn says, and Kurt frowns, because he can’t understand why Finn cares so much about this.

“Yeah, well, I was there too, and what I said was that sex with a dude was good economics. Then I said Kurt gives good head, which is true.”

The look on Finn’s face almost makes this entire embarrassing conversation worth it. Except it wouldn’t have been necessary at all if Puck hadn’t been avoiding him all morning, and now that he’s standing right next to Kurt, all Kurt wants to do is drag him somewhere private and demand to know what’s going on.

“I’ve already heard all this,” Kurt snaps, a jolt of satisfaction rolling through him at the surprise in Finn’s expression. “Puck told me what he said after practice. The question is, why do _you_ care so much?”

“Kurt, come on,” Finn says, dropping his voice and sort of leaning in as though he thinks he can keep Puck from overhearing him. “Our parents are dating. That practically makes us brothers.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Kurt says. His arms are crossed hard over his chest, and he tells himself it doesn’t bother him that Finn looks a little like he’s been slapped. He doesn’t feel bad, because they’re _not_ brothers, and his relationship is none of Finn’s business.

“Seriously, dude, what the fuck is your problem?” Puck asks, taking a step between Kurt and Finn and before Kurt can do more than put a hand on his arm, Finn’s throwing up his hands and backing away.

“You know what? Fine. But when this whole thing blows up in your face, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Finn says, then he’s turning away from them and heading for his classroom.

The last bell has long since rung, and the hallway’s deserted by the time Kurt remembers where he is long enough to look around. When his gaze lands on Puck again he frowns, and when he realizes his hand’s still resting on Puck’s arm he pulls it away to cross his arms again.

“And where have you been all morning?”

“Avoiding you,” Puck answers, and Kurt feels the color rush to his cheeks. His lips are parted and he knows he must look as recently slapped as Finn did a moment ago, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He wants to ask why, but he thinks he already knows the answer. Waking up together was intense enough, but what happened between them this morning in his bed is something they can’t take back, and Puck’s had enough time by now to decide that maybe that’s not what he wants after all.

He’s still trying to work out how to get the words out around the lump in his throat when Puck leans in, then he opens his mouth against Kurt’s neck and Kurt’s breath hitches in his chest. Puck presses hot kisses down his neck, fingers tugging at his high collar like maybe he’s trying to get at the mark he left on Kurt.

“I was pretty sure if I saw you I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you. Not after this morning,” Puck murmurs, and when Kurt’s knees wobble he’s not sure if it’s from relief or what Puck’s doing with his tongue. “So is the coast clear yet? Because I’m dying here.”

“You’re not dying,” Kurt says, but he thinks he might know how Puck feels. He turns his head until he finds Puck’s mouth, lips parted and tongue pushing between Puck’s teeth as he slides a hand around Puck’s neck to hold him close.

When he finally lets Puck up they’re both breathing heavily, and Kurt presses one last chaste kiss to his lips before he nods and reaches for his keys. “Let’s take this somewhere more private.”

“Thought you’d never ask, babe,” Puck says, sliding his arm around Kurt’s shoulders to steer him toward the parking lot.


End file.
